Havin' a One-Shotin' Good Time
by TheMattdude
Summary: (A collection of one-shots) The pups have had fun times, bad times, crazy times and testing times. With this series of stories, we shall see what sort of crazy missions and ideas the pups may have. To kick things off, a little Rocky/OC relationship, one that is secret from the other pups and Rocky has hidden for more than a year. Somehow.
1. A Rocky Past

_**A/N: Yes, it's me again. Going through reviews to my story "Bygone Days" (please check it out!), I found at least one wondering a bit about Tonya. My original idea was to do a full story on her, but I decided to go with a one-shot. I'm going to keep this story tab open as a place where I can just put one-shots, and hopefully create a mish-mash of sorts of fun, dark, or romantic fics. And as a bonus (maybe?), if you want me to use OC's you created, I would be happy to. PM me information (or put it as a review), and I'll see what I can do with them. Until then, this is TheMattdude signing off!**_

* * *

Rocky slowly opened his eyes, them being drawn quickly to his sleeping wife. He slowly closed them again, sighing in pleasure as he wrapped his paws around her. The early morning sun slanted through the window and into the small room, causing the room to glow. With his eyes still closed, Rocky sat up ever so slightly and kissed the side of his wife's face. He opened his eyes more easily this time, smiling as he saw her sleeping figure. He crawled out for under the blanket, and dropped lightly to the floor.

He opened the door, a small _CLICK!_ sounding as the knob was turned. He closed the door after him, leaving it open half an inch. A small hall gave way into a living room, dining room, and a kitchen. It wasn't big, and it wasn't too small either. He walked into the kitchen, grabbing a pup-pack from one of the cabinets. He donned it, and grabbed a kettle. As it filled with water, he quietly hummed to himself. It was an old country tune, one he had heard not too long ago on the radio.

He turned on the stove, setting the kettle onto the rack above the small gas flame. Placing his pup-pack back in the cabinet, he stepped into the living room. Falling into the couch, he turned on the morning news.

"And today with a high of sixty-eight degrees, most likely the coolest day of the summer, this one. It is expected to remain dry and sunny, so be sure to grab those sunglasses folks!" the news reporter said. Rocky muted the TV. He opened the door to the small house, inhaling deeply.

"More like a high of seventy-five," he muttered. He left the main door open, leaving a screen door as protection against any sort of animals. He opened a window in the living room and a window in the kitchen, wanting the breeze to air the place out. The kettle started whistling when Rocky's beloved walked out of the bedroom.

"Early to rise again, dear?" she asked.

"It's only eight, I'd hardly call it early," the mixed breed said, placing a tea bag in each of the two mugs he had gotten out. He poured the hot water into each cup, the steam billowing up in a mushroom cloud.

"So, what's the weather looking like for today?"

"News report says high of sixty-eight with no rain, but it's going to be seventy-five."

"And you smelled all that on the air?"

"Not quite, although I can just tell it's going to be warmer today, doesn't make sense to have a cold day in this hot summer." His wife just shook her head.

"I still say you should get a job as a news reporter. In the entire…" she looked up the ceiling as she moved her mouth, "...the entire year we've been married, I have yet to see you get a forecast wrong."

"It did _not_ take you that long to remember the time we've been married," Rocky said, walking towards the small dining room table. He placed one of the mugs in front of his wife, and sat down with the other one in front of him. He looked his wife in the eye, being drawn into the teal blue pools of light. She had silvery fur that she kept trimmed short, and a thin tail that at times could act like a whip. Her monotone fur and her thin tail made most people think she was some type of german shepherd, or a labrador. She was, in fact, a husky. They sat quietly, savoring their warm drinks. It was their equivalent to breakfast, something that took Rocky time to get used to.

"So when are you going to tell them, Rocky? You can't hide it from them forever."

"I don't know, Tonya. I don't want to tell them, because I'm afraid they'll be angry. I left them so I could be with you." Tonya looked at Rocky deeply.

"Dear, I'm sure they be happy for you. Sure, they might feel a little sour about you leaving and not telling them where you're off to, but I want to finally meet them."

"I left the PAW Patrol for two reasons. My first is that I love you, and I know you don't really like people or pups. Second, I needed to do something else. It was getting too bland. Everything was running together." His wife smiled at him.

"And you don't get that feeling living and working here?"

"How could every day become the same if it's always a different adventure with you?" he said affectionately. The clock chimed, signaling that it was eight-thirty. "Man, time flies in the morning. I didn't even realize I was out of tea." He looked into his mug, and naturally Tonya copied the movement.

"Well, you best be gettin' outside. I'll wash the cups," Tonya stated. She took the pup-pack from Rocky, and grabbed both her's and Rocky's cups. She and Rocky kissed one another as they walked past.

"I love you," Rocky said.

Tonya replied playfully. "Love ya' more."

Rocky pushed open the screen door, and looked over his and Tonya's property. They owned a repair shop that doubled as a scrap yard. People would drop off bits of metal or old pieces of something. They could then, in turn, take anything they wanted. Tonya had had bad experiences with people and pups alike in the past, and so she made sure to stay in the repair shop fixing old cars or trailers or any other items that people wanted fixed. The place usually wasn't that busy anyway, but was busy enough that there were plenty of piles of metal.

Rocky and Tonya themselves didn't melt or crush anything, they just kept it for a bit. If something had been there for more than a month, it usually went to the Foggy Bottom "Scrap'n'Junk Junkyard" as it was known. It would go there to be recycled and sold to companies that wanted to buy and such. There had been a few gems in the scrap yard Rocky had. One time, someone dropped off a 1970 Corvette, which Tonya, much to Rocky's surprise, wanted to keep and restore. It was their personal project, something which the two of them would stay up late to work on it.

He walked amongst the piles of metals, making sure they were organized at least a little bit to make it easier to find parts. Parts such as old leaf springs, tie-rods, broken I-beams, train springs, and pieces of random scrap metal. There was so much more, it was like a dream come true to Rocky. He walked up to the front gate, opening it up for the day. As always, a man in faded jeans and a T-shirt with aviator sunglasses was waiting.

"Mornin', Peter," Rocky said cheerfully.

"Mornin', Rocky," Peter said, "Anythin' to capture ma' inter'st?" He spoke with an accent, sounding like a cross between a Southern accent and a Russian accent.

"Yesterday afternoon someone dropped off piston rings for an original Mustang, I kept them separate because of how hard it can be to find them. And I know you have been fixin' one up for some time now."

"Been workin' on 'er for a year an' a half now. Kept me eyes out for some of 'em piston rings. How many ya' got?"

"The man dropped off five of them, they aren't in the best condition though. You'll have to have someone clean them up, but they're all your's."

Peter smiled. "Thanks. It's why I like this place, always looking out for the customer."

"But instead I never charge you anything," Rocky said with a laugh.

"I know. Well, see ya' par'd'ner." Peter walked off. Rocky sighed.

"Maybe I should just start charging, I'm too nice," he muttered to himself. He walked off, heading towards the small building that they used for repairing items. Unlike the rest of the place, people had to pay to get something fix. It usually depended on the object in question, and how long it took to fix it. They had to make money somehow.

He walked in to find Tonya seemingly half-eaten by the front of an older Audi A4. He heard metal-on-metal as a bolt was tightened, followed by a clang and an angry curse as she mashed her paw between something. "Damn it!" Tonya shouted.

Rocky grinned. "Our star mechanic having trouble?" this was followed by a bang and a shudder of the car's raised hood. An angry-looking Tonya glared at her husband while rubbing her head.

"You try getting your ass in a German-made car. I get that people like us for our work on pretty much any car, but I'm getting tired of these people who bought something German. When it goes wrong, they take it to us because we're cheaper than anyone else."

"I'll work on it once you start greeting people and showing them around the yard." Tonya continued to glare at Rocky. Without a word, she went back under the hood of the Audi and went back to making clinking noises. He shook his head, and walked out. As he exited the building he heard another loud clang followed by more cursing. He laughed quietly to himself.

* * *

The day went by without much going on. Lunch came and went, people had come and gone. Tonya was going over a list as Rocky prepared dinner. She couldn't help but noticed each day the list became slightly longer as projects began building up.

"More Audis and Mercedes, "she muttered to herself. "Rocky?"

"Yeah?" the mixed-breed asked from the kitchen.

"I'm going to need your help in the repair shop at some point this week. Requests and projects keep adding up, and I can't keep doing it alone."

"Why not just say we aren't taking anymore projects? How many are on the waitlist?"

Tonya scanned the piece of paper in front of her. "Looks like we have two that are being worked on, and then eight more we have to do, one of them is a full exhaust repair on an old Ford Ranger."

"Do we even have parts for that?" Rocky asked, coming to sit with his wife on the couch.

"I don't know. You'd have a better idea if we have what we need for that."

"Is it just a repair, or a full replacement?" He took the page from Tonya.

"Oh, sorry, it's a full replacement. He brought it in yesterday, and I gave it a once over. It's in good condition, he said he just needs an exhaust."

"We probably have it then," Rocky said.

They were interrupted by a loud buzz.

"Oh my, Rocky I told you I hated that!" she said.

"Sorry, I wanted to make sure that we could hear when someone was at the gate while we weren't there."

"But it's after closing! You need to turn it off at this point in time."

"Yes, I know! I'll fix it tonight. I'm going to see who it is though, I should be back by the time dinner's done cooking."

"You better fix that buzzer," Tonya murmured as Rocky left.

It was still light outside, the summer sun refusing to go down. It was only past six in the evening, but that's when Rocky closed up shop. He saw the closed gate, and made his way towards it. It had a thin metal wall on the inside, to prevent people outside from seeing the scrap in the yard. He unlocked the padlock that was on the inside and open one of the gates.

"Look, sorry buddy, but the yard is cl-" he started. He swallowed nervously.

"Hey, buddy," Chase said, his voice cold. Rocky just stared at the german shepherd in front of him. "Nice place, it suits you. Maybe you could also tell me why you left so suddenly, and without a trace?" Rocky swallowed nervously again. The mixed-breed had talked to Ryder about leaving the PAW Patrol, and didn't tell anyone else. He left in the middle of the night, got married and worked hard. He had avoided the PAW Patrol since, afraid of something such as this.

"O-okay," Rocky said, opening the gate wider. Chase walked in, and Rocky closed the gate. Chase sat down facing Rocky, and expectant look on his face.

"So, you've been gone a year, giving everyone at the Lookout a heart attack, and haven't told anyone where you were off to. I want to know why," Chase said. His tone left no room for argument.

"I- I had a girlfriend," Rocky said, staring at the ground as he did so. "It's harder than you think." He looked up at Chase as he said this, and his vision focused on a figure just coming out of his house. He stared at her, not wanting her to come near. Silently begging her, but she didn't take the hint.

She spoke, her voice filled with nervousness. "Rocky, dear, who's this?" Rocky felt his heart sink into his stomach as Chase turned to see the new voice. He looked back at Rocky.

"Explain," was all the police pup said. The mixed-breed sighed in defeat.

"Tonya, please come here," he said, his voice saying he wouldn't enjoy this. She cautiously walked over to Rocky, not taking her eyes off Chase. She sat down next to her husband, fear in her eyes. "Tonya, I want you to meet Chase, one of the pups from the PAW Patrol." She visibly relaxed as he said this and noticed the tag on Chase's neck. Chase held out his paw, and Tonya shook it.

"Hi," she said in a quiet voice.

Chase replied, "Hello." He turned back to Rocky. "So you left us so you can live with your girlfriend?"

"Not- not quite," Rocky replied sheepishly. Chase raised his eyebrows. "Tonya and I are, married." Disbelief poured onto Chase's face. He looked down at Rocky's paw, and saw a silver ring. Etched on it was the name _Tonya_ in cursive. He looked at Tonya's paw, and saw a nearly identical ring that had the name _Rocky_ etched in cursive. "The night I left we got married," Rocky continued, "and we've worked hard to get a house and now we have a legitimate business." Rocky gestured around them as he spoke.

"Maybe we could talk over dinner," Tonya suggested, "the food's out of the oven."

"I would be happy to join you guys," Chase said, seemingly a little forced.

Rocky sighed. "Let's go then." The mixed-breed and husky led the way to the single-story house, with Chase behind them. Rocky opened the door, letting Tonya and Chase in. He followed, closing the door tight behind them.

"It smells good in here," Chase said, looking around.

"Rocky made dinner," Tonya said, grabbing a small pan of homemade meatballs. Chase glanced at Rocky with an amused and confused expression on his face.

"Please, make yourself at home," Rocky said, gesturing to the table. There were four chairs, even though Tonya and Rocky only ever used two of them. Chase pulled out a chair and jumped up. Rocky and Tonya followed, the former with three plates balanced.

"So how did you two meet?" Chase asked between bites of food.

Rocky answered. "We met in front of Mr. Porter's. I was going to eat there for an evening, and I saw Tonya sitting outside."

"I was a stray," Tonya continued, "and I was about to beg for food in hopes someone would be kind enough to give me something. Then this kind gentleman," she nudged Rocky, sitting next to her, "offered to give me some dinner."

"And so, after much convincing, I managed to get Mr. Porter to believe that we weren't a couple, which I guess wasn't entirely true," said Rocky.

"Last I recall, I was the one telling him that." Rocky raised an eyebrow at his wife.

"I remembered it as you were so afraid to talk that you hardly said a word the entire time." Rocky and Tonya smiled at each other.

"So you two went into Mr. Porter's together," Chase spoke, "but neither of you can remember any exact events?" They shook their heads. "Then what led up to you guys getting together?"

"I'm sure you remember how I would go to Mr. Porter's the same night every week?" Rocky asked. Chase nodded, and so he continued. "Tonya met me there each night, and I guess it kind of snowballed."

"Huh," Chase said, staring at the table. "So, anything I should know?" The couple looked at each, then shook their heads. "Right, I had a feeling, especially from you," he looked at Tonya, "officer. Maybe we could have a chat about work. Or rather, where you used to work." Tonya froze, halfway to her plate of food.

"Chase," Rocky said, "don't. Now's not the time to mess with people and their minds."

"Oh?" Chase challenged, "maybe you should've thought of that before you left the PAW Patrol, leaving your friends and your _family_ , Rocky!"

Rocky inhaled to start arguing, but Tonya stopped him. "It's alright, Rocky. I may as well tell someone besides you, hopefully he'll listen." Rocky kept his mouth shut. "So, Chase, if you really want to know, I'll tell you. I promise I'm not lying when I say this either." Chase merely waved for her to continue. "Alright. You know why I was kicked off the force correct?"

"For smuggling illegal weapons to and from Japan? Yes," Chase stated a little angrily.

"I didn't, I never did. My- my brother was the one smuggling. He called me one night, saying that he needed to talk to me. So I went to him, and he seemed nervous. He told me to watch my back, and he handed me a gun. Told me to use it if I needed to. He left, and so I unthinkingly put the gun in the pocket of my vest. Didn't think much of it till I went to leave the building, and saw practically an army of cops. When I told them what happened, they didn't believe me. They suspended me from the force while they worked it out, but somehow everything pointed to me." Tears were starting to form in Tonya's eyes. "They didn't have much solid evidence, but enough to have me stripped of my badge. I was booted to the curb, and wandered for a long time. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Animal control eventually nabbed me, and put me in a kennel. Some of the dogs there beat me, seeing it as either fun or a way to let anger out. I was the small pup, the one who couldn't defend herself. I did my best, but they were so much bigger." She rubbed her shoulder, as an age old wound came back at the memory. "I managed to escape eventually, and they weren't able to tag me again. It was then I learned that my brother had been found leading a smuggling operation, the very one I had been accused of. He had gotten killed in a shootout, which effectively killed my entire family. He was the only one I had." Rocky had gotten out of his seat, and was sitting on Tonya's seat with her. She leaned into him. "When the police department realized their mistake, it was already too late. I wanted nothing to do with them. So if you're here to recruit me, beat it!"

Chase's expression through her story changed multiple times. It had gone from anger, to curiousness, and eventually to sorrow. "Tonya. I'm not sure if I believe you or not, but I am sorry. I had heard about your case file, even investigated a little about it myself, and I'm sorry. I know it won't bring your brother back, and I know it can't change the past, but, would you accept my friendship as reconciliation?" Tonya sniffed a little.

She sighed, then answered, "Sure."

Chase grinned. "I am glad to meet you, and am hoping we can improve our relationship from this...misunderstanding." He looked at a clock made from recycled parts that was hanging on the wall. "Well, it's late. I best be getting back to the Lookout, and I am glad to learn your story, Tonya. If Rocky doesn't treat you well, please kick him for me." He added the last part with a slightly serious, still joking tone.

"Oh, don't worry, I will," she said, looking into Rocky's eyes.

"Maybe we'll come to the Lookout sometime?" Rocky said, directed more as a question to his wife.

"Yes, maybe we will."

Chase smiled at the two of them. "Great! I'm sure the rest of the pups would love to see you. I can see myself out." He walked to the door, and walked out. The door closed with a solid _THUD!_ as the german shepherd pulled it shut.

"I'll wash the dishes," Rocky said quietly. He got off Tonya's chair, and gathered the plates. He deposited them in the sink, and donned the pup-pack. He still didn't like water. He carefully washed them, as Tonya sat silently on the couch. Rocky finished washing the dishes, and set them in a rack to dry. He walked to the couch, and sat down with the husky. He hugged her close, and stroked her back.

"The first time...I've never shared with anyone, but you. The whole story…" she said, seemingly in another world.

"I know," Rocky said. Silence reigned.

"I would like to meet them." Rocky almost jumped at the sudden sound of her voice. "I want to meet the PAW Patrol. I've never seen them before, Chase was nice. Maybe we should go see them."

"Sure," Rocky said soothingly. "We can go meet them."

"The Corvette needed a test drive as well." The two of them laughed softly.


	2. A Cold Broken Heart

_**A/N: Don't have much to say, apart from it's fun to write these one-shots. Enjoy!  
**_

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own PAW Patrol_**

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Marshall felt a pang of sadness as he woke up alone again. He slowly worked up the courage, then climbed out of bed. He stretched, a yawn forming as he did so. He looked around his room, one which Ryder had built for him specifically. Every pup had gotten one as they grew out of their pup-houses. Unlike the other pups though, Marshall didn't want his to be the same color as his uniform. He had opted for more of a light blue, which he found a much more pleasing color. It had become less so over the past few years, and Marshall wished he would just repaint it. A small part of him still kept it the same light blue.

He walked out of his room, noticing that it was almost noon. He trudged to the kitchen, opening the fridge. Not hungry, he closed the door. Hearing the TV on in the living room, it being some type of stupid soap opera, he walked outside. He couldn't stand Skye's romance shows.

Marshall looked across the yard, seeing the pups play. Chase and Zuma were playing tug-of-war, and Rocky was sleeping under a tree with his wife Tonya. Another pang of sadness attacked Marshall as he saw the couple. Chase and Skye were together, Rocky had found a wife, and Zuma was dating yet another poor girl whom he would break up with. It always happened, one way or another.

 _Zuma and his stupid speech impediment,_ Marshall thought as he walked to his spot. He squeezed between two boulders, up above the Lookout in the forest. Once between the two boulders, he walked through a curtain of vines, revealing a breathtaking sight. It was a little space surrounded by boulders, and nothing but a single tree in the center. That tree was on a small island in the middle of a small, but deep, pond. It was a fairly young willow tree, not quite full sized, but still relatively large. Marshall hopped onto a small raft, and gently pushed off the shore.

He felt the raft, which was just a bunch of branches tied to one another, grate against the bottom. He dragged it up onto the small island, and sat beneath the tree. He sat there, the sun reaching its highest point in the sky. As it began to tilt into afternoon, Marshall started crying. He cried for what felt like hours, just sobbing uncontrollably. He cried for his dead wife, missing her every moment of his existence. Everest had been the only thing that mattered to him. She had been ripped away so suddenly, it ripped his heart out as well. He could still hear the avalanche that had taken her so completely.

He looked up at the sky, and screamed. He screamed until his throat was on fire. He screamed until he physically couldn't scream any more. Tears were streaming in his eyes. He closed them, heaving in and out, losing control of his own body. He choked on sobs, his body shaking. Every day he did this, unable to control himself. His sobs slowly grew to quiet whispers, and he slowly fell asleep.

Waking up, he fought back a fresh wave of tears. He slowly dragged himself to the raft, settling on the wobbly floatation device. Gently pushing off, he let his back paw drag through the water. Grating against the other shore, he forced himself to yank the raft up the bank. Squeezing through the boulders, he made his way back to the Lookout. Climbing the driveway, he didn't answer the other pups when they called greetings. He never did.

He trudged to the living room, throwing himself onto the couch. He closed his eyes, wanting to shut out the pain. Wanting to shut out others. Wanting to shut out everything. But he couldn't. He couldn't hide the pain, it throbbed with every beat of his heart, every thought of Everest. He couldn't shut out the others. They acted as if nothing ever happened, like she was never there. They had tried to tell him that he shouldn't mourn forever, but he shut them out. He would mourn as long as he wanted. They hadn't lost a wife, they hadn't lost a mate. They hadn't lost unborn children, they hadn't missed the chance of being a father.

Marshall heard the others getting dinner, even felt someone shake him. He didn't respond, and let whoever shook him walk away. He didn't want to eat, he wasn't hungry. He just laid on the couch, hearing everyone go to bed. He sat, not wanting to move.

Finally, he made up his mind. He slowly forced himself up, and walked outside. He looked up at the stars, and said, "Don't worry, Everest, I'm coming." He walked to the edge of the cliff, and stopped. Staring at the dizzying drop, watching the crashing waves cover and uncover rocks. Like a monster, licking its teeth in anticipation of a meal.

"Marshall, why are you out here?" Marshall heard from behind him. The dalmation slowly turned, seeing Ryder approaching.

"I'm sorry," was all Marshall said. He let himself lean back, falling through the night. He smiled as he saw Ryder at the cliff edge.

For the first time in years, Marshall was happy.

* * *

 _ **A/N: *shudder* A bit of a dark one. I'm not planning on doing a lot of darker stories such as this (which may be good news to some). Anyways, please do not hesitate to PM me OC's that you want me to use! I'll see what I can do with them, but I would like it if, along with a physical description, I could get extra info (personalities, any sort of crushes/relationships, etc.). I won't use everyone's OC's, but I would enjoy knowing if you guys would want me to use your OC's! Again, not a requirement, but something fun. I'll see if I can't get another one-shot out tomorrow, as they are good fun to write. Until then, this is TheMattdude signing off!**_


	3. Alone

_**A/N: Here is a new one-shot to hopefully allow you, the reader, to enjoy at least a few minutes of your day. As a bit of a spoiler, this chapter/story contains an OC created by CrystalWolf28 (check out his stories if you haven't already!), and I would like to say thanks to you for letting me use one of your OC's. While your OC may not have too much of a presence in this story, I felt that it would be a good idea to include it! I'm not sure when I'm going to update this or "The Bygone few", but hopefully soon. Until then, this is TheMattdude signing off!**_

* * *

Chase was alone. The world had been ravaged by war nearly six years ago. Very few people had escaped, and of those few, nearly all of them were still warring with each other. Even Adventure Bay had been touched, with Chase being the sole survivor. Weeds and ivy had already flourished, covering large patches of ground. The countless days and nights had brought forth rain and snow, slowly rusting the cars that had been abandoned.

The Lookout itself looked as though it had shouldered the worst, with sections of wall crumbling as salt-laden wind from the sea ate away at it. Windows had been smashed, only the elevator windows withstanding the war. Even then, they were chipped and cracked, looking as if they might shatter at any moment. The elevator itself wasn't functional, sitting at the bottom of the shaft like some animal hiding.

Chase had been alone for six years, with not a soul to speak to. He often spoke to himself, the wind taking his words away as they formed. He trudged along, every day trying to fill his mind with what he needed to do. His mind flashed back to the other members of the PAW Patrol, their deaths forever burned in his memory. He had seen each pup face their demise, narrowly missing his haunted his mind and his dreams every day and night, making him wish he had been killed.

Chase walked along the beach, looking at all the scrap left. Empty bullet shells, twisted metal, and a great fire pit. He gave the fire pit a wide berth, knowing what it had been used for. He shivered at the memory. He remembered Marshall's screams, saw his face full of pain and fear. He shook his head. It had been a long time since it had happened, but it still felt like yesterday. Chase turned his gaze to the beach beneath his paws. The sea brought in wonderful things at times, items of great value or use. Chase scoured the entire beach, finding nothing of use. He walked on.

He went towards City Hall, its bell no longer ringing. The clock had long since stopped ticking, a silent sentry keeping watch. Chase picked his way through the tangle of rusted cars. He knew at the heart of the mess what lied there. There had been screams, however the screams came from stopping tires. Amongst the mess was Rocky, whom had said he had created the most powerful device in the entire war. It lay at the heart of the mess with him, which Chase had tried to get. He had scars on his paws as the only sign of his labor. He began whistling.

"Is there anything here?" Chase said once he reached the yard of City Hall, saying the same phrase he had said every day. He tried the doors. They had always been locked, and were too strong for him to knock down. The windows had been barred, even though the glass was shattered. He twisted the knob, and gave a small start of surprise as it opened. He cautiously walked in, having never been in since the war had started. "Someone must be home again," he murmured. He looked around as he walked, cringing at the smell. It was musty and smelled of dead bodies, most of which had looked starved to death. He looked at one where it was only bone with the skin stretched tightly across it, the pelvis and lower missing. He looked across the hall, seeing the other half. He had gotten used to seeing what was left, the sight of it not disturbing him near as much as the thought of how it happened. He walked on.

He climbed a staircase, a side of which had collapsed, the rest groaned and moaned as he walked on it. He looked in a corner, seeing a skeleton with straps on it. He silently and quickly trotted towards it, his eyes widening at what it held. It had ammunition, and plenty of it. He grabbed it and put it in his pack, alongside a gun he had built. It was crude and could use almost any ammunition, save for the extra large and extra small bullets. It had a chamber specifically for shotgun ammunition, of which he had found plenty. Rats scurried away as he made his way down the rotting halls. The walls were scratched, and in places Chase could see the support structures. He looked throughout the building, finding nothing. He went back to the door, and inspected it. It looked like any sort of lock had finally given way, having allowed him to open it in the first place. He walked out, carefully shutting the door behind him. There was a soft click, and he tried the knob. It wouldn't open.

He shrugged. There hadn't been anything useful in there anyway. He turned away, looking towards the sky. It was evening, and the hunters would be out soon. He made his way to the Lookout. The hunters were a group of who-knows-what, completely ruthless and looking for anything to kill. They didn't kill for the need of food, they killed for the fun. Chase had seen their work first hand. Years ago, there was one other person who must've come to Adventure Bay during the night, and didn't make it to morning. When Chase had found the body, most of the internal organs had become external, and the body had been mauled beyond any sort of recognition. The next night the body had vanished, although it wasn't hard for Chase to figure out how. Chase gagged at the memory, and continued to the Lookout.

He had heard their calls as he was walking across the broken bridge. Halfway between a scream and howl, it always sent chills up his spine. He had no idea how they came to be, or when they started hunting. They had appeared at some point during the war, and had wreaked havoc on everyone and everything. They were merciless, and barely tolerated each other. Chase had never seen one up close, but he hoped he never would.

He still stayed in the Lookout, making sure the doors were shut tight. They no longer functioned, so Chase had fashioned handles of scrap metal he had found. He used a simple chain and padlock on the door handles each night, making sure it was locked and tight. It payed to be safe. He took off his pack, dropping it onto the floor. He took out several objects, from his gun to bits of metal he had found. He took off his patched and torn police uniform. He had lost his hat years ago. He walked down a dimly lit hall, and turned into the kitchen. The light flickered on as he walked in, unable to make up its mind about wanting to be on or off. After multiple flashes, it illuminated, casting hard light around the room. Many of the cabinets were missing doors, and they were filled with random objects. He walked over to the grimy, old fridge and looked over the contents. There was very little, most of it just items that needed to be kept cold that were inedible. He closed the door, a thud followed by a short sucking noise. Not finding anything, he went to bed. He fell asleep to the screams of the hunters, of which had put him to sleep for years.

He unlocked the front door, opening them to reveal a cloudy day. Chase sniffed the air experimentally. It wasn't going to rain, of which Chase was thankful. He donned his suit, and shouldered his pack. He walked down the driveway, keeping an eye out. Every day was the same, every day blending into the next one. It had become a horrid routine, enslaving Chase to its every whim.

He dragged his paws across the bridge, having to hop from one side to the other. It had broken from a plane that had crashed into it, and to get from one side to another one had to jump across the narrowest point. The plane was still sitting there, but Chase couldn't reach it. He didn't want to reach it anyway. He lowered his head as he walked past, the only love of his life trapped inside. The dogfight had ended up the wrong way for the Cockapoo, and not only her. Chase had mourned the loss of both Skye and his unborn pup for months afterwards. He didn't have any more tears to shed.

He silently and quickly looked over the beach, getting the feeling nothing was there. Finishing his search, also confirming his earlier feeling, he didn't find anything new or usefull. Walking down the street, he saw what was left of Adventure Bay. Nearly all the buildings were gone, only a handful still standing, but even then they were crumbling.

He picked his way through the debris, turning over the occasional piece of concrete or wood. He had turned over nearly every stone over the years, so nothing was truly new to him.

Working his way through the rubble, he heard a peculiar noise. A cross between a mewl and a whine, it sounded like something in pain. Taking out his gun, he cautiously approached the noise. Training his weapon on a piece of rubble, he quickly threw it away.

A hunter jumped up, knocking the gun out of his paws. It skittered and bounced nearly fifteen feet away, more distance than he could cover against the hunter. It shrieked loudly, piercing Chase's ears. Its four black eyes stood out against its pale skin, making the fanged mouth seem larger than a basket ball. Chase wrestled the creature, trying to force its pulsing mouth away from him. He used all his strength to try and push it off, but it slowly made its way down. With one final burst of effort, the hunter forced its gruesome teeth around the pup's neck.

* * *

Chase woke up, covered in sweat. The night was peaceful, a full moon lighting the ground around him. He looked at the pups around him, all of them sleeping so peacefully. They were outside, Ryder having let them camp in the yard for the evening. Chase drew his paws close, shuddering at the nightmare he had had. It had been the third time, the same exact nightmare. It creeped him out, and he had talked to the team's medic, Crystal, about it. The white and black husky said that it was the mind's way of showing fears and stress, which had surprised Chase.

He slowly got up, and walked to the husky who was sleeping near Rocky. He gently shook her awake. "Crystal," he said. He shook harder when he didn't get a response. "Crystal!" said Chase quietly. She opened an eye, and closed it with a yawn.

"What is it, Chase?" she asked sleepily. "Are you having that nightmare again?" The german shepherd merely nodded. "Look, we don't know enough about the mind to understand what something like this really means, other than you have something in your life that's bothering you. Is there anything, _anything_ you can think of that may be bothering you?"

"Not really," Chase said carefully, "The only thing that really stresses me is my duty as an officer. What if I can't succeed?"

Crystal made a soft cooing noise to calm her friend. "Chase, you're the best officer I know. I know you will do everything you can to save anyone and everyone you can. You just need to realize something like that won't happen. I know when I start worrying about 'what if I can't save someone?', I start to get weird dreams too. Just relax, and you should sleep better." Chase didn't say anything for a time.

"Okay, I'll do that," he said at length. Crystal smiled.

"I know you will." She yawned, "G'night, Chase." She settled down into her sleeping back, drifting quickly back into the embrace of slumber. It was a long time before Chase went back to his sleeping bag.

As he fell asleep, the last image of the hunter plagued his mind.


	4. Golden Death

_**A/N: First off, I apologize for the lack of updates on "The Bygone Few". For those of you who have read it, I am having a terrible case of writer's block. Onto this one-shot: This idea came to me randomly, after I tried to work out three other ideas that all failed. I hope you enjoy this, and shout-out to SharpDragonKlaw for letting me use his OC, Riggs. I hope you like how I used your OC, although he doesn't have a large part in this story. Anyways, as ever, enjoy!**_

* * *

The silence of the night was shattered.

It was smashed by an ear splitting shriek. The shriek rang out across the town, being silenced almost as soon as it started. Muffled noises were heard, in an attempt to cover up the shout. But the damage had been done.

Chase sprang up to his paws, barely registering the fact his head clanged noisily against the roof of his pup-house. In a flash, he opened and ran out of the door, looking both left and right to try to find the source of the noise. Marshall and the others had woken up, with drowsy concerned looks on their faces. Chase felt he was the only one fully alert.

"What was that?" Marshall asked groggily, stifling a yawn. Chase didn't answer, perking his ears to try and hear anything else. Nothing.

"We all heard that, *yawn* right?" Rocky asked. Zuma trudged up, his eyes little more than slits from exhaustion.

"Zuma, did you see anything?" Chase asked seriously. Zuma continued walking, straight into Chase.

"Hm?" he said. "Oh, do- don't think I saw anything. *yawn* Was seeing, seeing the inside of, of my, inside of my…" His head drooped, and faint snoring could be heard.

"I thought only I could do that," Marshall commented, earning a quiet laugh from only some of the pups. Chase looked over the gathered pups.

 _Let's see,_ Chase thought, _Marshall, Rubble, Zuma, Rocky, me...where's Skye?_ Chase bolted from the spot, confusing the others.

"Where'd Chase go?" Rocky asked.

Rubble, in the meantime, had been walking around in circles, his eyes still covered by his blindfold he used for sleeping. "Could someone please turn on the lights?" Rocky calmly walked over and lifted the blindfold off his friend's head. "Thanks, Rocky!" Rubble exclaimed.

"I'm surprised you still aren't used to it," Marshall stated. "You we- *yawn* -wear it every night."

"I guess I just get so into my sleeping th-" Rubble was interrupted by a loud howl. Without hesitation, Rocky, Marshall and Rubble ran. Zuma started awake at the sound of the howl, then watched curiously as the others took off. Without seeing anything better to do he followed.

Chase stared at the empty pup-house. The silver and pink pup-house had no one inside, and Chase knew what it meant. He turned around, trying to see any sign of whoever had taken her. Chase knew that Skye wouldn't have screamed if there hadn't been anything. And now, she was gone.

* * *

 _ **Six**_ _ **years later...**_

The small cockapoo stared unflinchingly at her leader. Only her head moved, following the pacing form of a golden labrador. The labrador had short fur with one patch of black fur on his front left paw. Gold-yellow eyes and a black nose completed his face. Skye had been waiting for twenty minutes while her leader paced back and forth, shaking his head, muttering, and occasionally looking at her. She waited patiently, knowing that the gold labrador would speak his mind eventually.

"Who are you?" he eventually said. Skye answered quickly and firmly.

"I am death." The golden lab nodded his head.

"Right, right. Do you have any relationships with anyone?"

"None, sir." The lab nodded his head.

"Do you remember where you are from? Any family you had?"

"They lost all meaning to me, sir."

"What is your name?"

"I have none, but I have been called many things. She-Devil, Golden Death, Hell's Worker." Skye knew nothing of her old name, nor of any feelings she had had. She had been broken, her mind shutting down and starting all over. Bent completely to merciless monsters who used her to kill their enemies. They told her she was fighting a noble cause. She was merely an assassin trained by and for thugs and criminals. Yet she believed them, and never once did she question an order, or fail to complete what she was tasked to do. Her world had become merely a chain of commands to kill whom she was told.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she was hesitant, or if she had emotions for whom she killed. Not once did she feel anything. She was devoid of emotion, her life becoming only what was needed and what she was asked to do. If she needed to go days with hardly any sleep, she would do so. If she needed to kill a family to reach her target or keep herself unidentified, she would do so. She didn't even think about any other life, what could be different in her life. She just thought about her life the way it was.

"Good. Glad to see you have not changed." He flashed a smile, showing perfectly white teeth. Skye didn't return the smile, nor did she show any sign of noticing he had smiled. Seeing this, the lab went back to pacing. "So, we have a new target for you. It is someone from your past life, someone I just wanted to make sure won't affect you. Will you be alright?" He was nervous about losing his best insurance. While she was essentially a mercenary, she brought any money she was hired for directly to the lab in front of her, her boss. She was his most valuable asset, the ace in his sleeve. His insurance, as some might call it.

"I lost all feeling for anyone then long ago," she replied curtly.

"Good, good. Here is a file with your target, you have two days to get rid of him. He's getting too close to us for my liking, he needs to be silenced." He handed her a yellow envelope, which she grabbed in her mouth. "You may go." She gave a graceful flourish of her paw, bringing it from her brow to her chest, and from her chest to the ground. It was a salute that she had been trained to give to anyone ranking higher than her, which was only this dog. She turned and walked out the door. It clicked silently behind her.

She walked down a hallway with brick and mortar walls. It was lit by only a few flickering lights, with bits of chipped concrete at the base of the walls. It was a dusty concrete floor with a few rugs to try and give a more "rich" feel. It did not. At the end of the hall, Skye turned left, moving past two guards with uzis. They didn't say a word, knowing that she was a lethal force. They let her slip by without question.

Moving down another hall, she stopped in front of a door. She twisted the knob, allowing the door to swing inward. Creaky hinges trumpeted her arrival, a small patina of rust on them. Skye had left them rusty and loud intentionally, meaning that any would-be attacker would alert her of their presence. She shut the door with the same, rusty screech, and drove a sliding bolt home. She turned in towards her room, moving straight towards her bed.

The room wasn't decorated how she would've decorated her pup-house. The room was still bright pink, with odd objects either on shelves or hanging on the wall. A wallet here, a gun their, sometimes even a hair pin. They were all momentos. Little keep-sakes Skye collected from each person she had killed. There were some thirty-odd objects in the room on shelves. She even had a Matchbox car, taken from the hand of a five year-old child she had killed. None of the momentos held real emotionally value, they were more just trophies. Nothing had emotional value to her anymore.

She flipped open the top of the envelope, sliding the papers held within onto her bed. Carefully, she spread the papers that had been within the file across the blanket. She looked over one, reading it closely.

 _ **Description:**_ _Male_ _ **Species:**_ _Dog_ _ **Breed:**_ _German Shepherd_ _ **Profession:**_ _Police/K9 Dog; working under the PAW Patrol_ _ **Name:**_ _Chase Rose_

She scanned the rest of the page, reading on activities, enjoyments, schedules, anything anyone could've wanted to know about the pup. She looked closely at one line and read it aloud.

"Enjoys being alone, has no immediate family alive. Turns away from those he lives with at the Lookout," she read. A plan was formulating in her mind already. The heart of Adventure Bay was an hour's drive from where she was. "Current relationships, none. Had a girlfriend, a small cockapoo." Her mind continued to work. She vaguely remembered her relationship with him. It held nothing to her, he was just another target. Frowning, Skye tried to work out why she had a week to try and kill him. It shouldn't be too hard.

Looking to her nightstand, she smiled at the pile of golden knives sitting there. They were her calling card. She always left one at the site of the kill, which had spread her as "Golden Death". She picked one up, looking at her reflection in the polished blade. Another knife would be used in just a few days.

* * *

Chase walked across the bridge. He had done it a million times before. He was heading back to the Lookout, going to spend the weekend with Ryder and the other pups. He had spent this past week working at the Adventure Bay Police Department, and was now looking forward to a hopefully peaceful weekend. He would spend every other week with Ryder to try and take a break from all the crime and such. He also needed to use the more advanced technology at the Lookout. He was close to cracking a hard case that had been giving the ABPD the slip for years. A drug cartel was in operation, Chase knew, but no evidence could be found relating anyone to the case. Then there was the matter of the "Golden Death" as he was called.

Murders had been springing up in the past year, and were at first random. After a few months patterns began to appear. While at first no connections could appear, as more and more people were murdered, it was clear they had either been witnesses or informants. They had all known about the drug cartel. It was one of the things that was making Chase's job so hard, as anyone with knowledge of the cartel was dead or in the process of being hunted.

Then the golden knives had appeared. It was clear that a message was trying to be spread, but whatever that message was wasn't clear. It was all too vague for anyone to make sense of. And it bothered Chase. He hated not knowing who was behind all this, and whether or not the cartel and the "Golden Death" were related. He angrily shook the thoughts from his head. He had spent too much time already this week worrying about it. He just needed to clear his head and get a new perspective on walked up the Lookout driveway, and when he got to the top of the twisty pavement, he saw a silver Tesla sitting there. He sighed, knowing who it was. Chase didn't want visitors, he just wanted to be alone with his family. His friends. But he still liked the owner of the Tesla. He was Rocky's cousin, Riggs. Chase marveled at the fact he was able to afford the Model S, particularly the P90D. Someone at the police department had said that they aren't cheap, and would cost a pretty penny to get a brand new one. It wasn't the top model, but it was close.

The Lookout doors opened as Chase stepped in front of them. He was met by a brick wall of chatter, pups playfully arguing and shouting and talking. Marshall and Everest had gotten together within the past six years, and had two different sets of pups. The first ones born were three pups, two of which looked like Marshall and one of which looked like Everest. Two girls and a boy. The second set of pups born, there were four. One of which was mostly dalmatian, the rest of them looked more like huskies.

Right now, a giant mixed breed was trying to wrestle three of the seven pups, the dalmatians. Winter, Miracle, and Snow. As if by chance, they were also all females. They were yipping and barking in excitement and challenge, each one vying for the big dog's attention. Chase watched the four of them, noting with pleasure the gentleness of the big dog, whom was Rocky's cousin Riggs. The german shepherd managed to slip past, breathing a sigh of relief as the three energetic puppies didn't see "Uncle Chase".

He walked down one of the hallways in the Lookout, moving on confident paws. "Hey, Chase!" Zuma said as the police pup walked past. Chase merely nodded, needing to get to Ryder. An uneasy feeling had come over him, just some sense that had kept him alive in close-quarters fighting. A feeling that something was going to happen. And soon. He needed to tell Ryder.

* * *

Skye slunk across the roof of the building. Hiding behind a sign advertising a pet parlor, she checked herself. She had a gun, more of a backup. She preferred to get close and personal to whom she was killing, meaning she had an arsenal of knives. She had six throwing knives across her stomach, two small knives - one on each front leg - a longer blade along her left side, as well as the suppressed pistol on her hind left leg. Most would think that it was far too much, but for Skye, it was perfect. Having that many knives meant that if she were to miss with her throwing knives, she would still have two others. If those somehow got knocked away from her, she had her pistol in reserve. But she never missed a throw.

It was a game of patience now. The best time to kill Chase, Skye thought, is when no one is awake and expecting it. She had no preference over when they were killed, or whether or not they were expecting it, but she would rather avoid using her pistol. It was a bit less satisfying than feeling the skin and muscle of the victim break beneath a blade.

Leaning against the sign, Skye closed her eyes. It was best to catch up on rest whenever possible and to relax one's body before something rigorous or testing. She entered a light, dreamless sleep, knowing that in just a few hours she would kill her target and report another successful mission.

Skye awoke, it being just after midnight. The position of the moon gave away the time. She stretched, working to loosen her muscles and tendons. She wasn't expecting too much trouble, but with Chase's track record, it could be harder than first perceived. Moving quietly, Skye jumped from the low building's roof. The moon was slowly gliding across the sky, the occasional cloud moving in front of it. Running quickly across the bridge, Skye hid within any available shadow. Most people, if asked, would have said they had only seen a vague shape sliding from one shadow to another.

She ghosted up the driveway, carefully crawling up the grassy slopes and across the pavement. She stopped at the top of the last hill, carefully peeking up over the edge. The pup-houses were empty, but that was to be expected. Ryder had each of the pups have their own rooms constructed, since they had outgrown their old pup-houses. Skye scanned the yard, looking for something. Her eyes locked on a solitary figure standing at the edge of the cliff. Even from this distance, she knew it was Chase. She silently ghosted up to the figure, pausing ten feet away. A faint rasping could be heard as Skye drew her long-bladed knife. Chase's ears parked slightly at the sound, and he sighed.

"Go ahead. Do it," he said. Skye paused. This was a new reaction. "I said do it!" he practically shouted. "I've got nothing left to live for. My only love was taken away from me. No one else knows, but I can't live any longer. Yet, I can't bring myself to kill myself. I've thought about it. I've wanted to do it. But I'm too weak. Maybe you, Golden Death, could kill me and get it over with."

Skye stared at his back. Two thoughts were running through her mind at this point. Unlike every other victim of her's, this one was pleading for her to kill him. Practically begging her to kill him. Then there was the fact that he knew it was her. At least, he knew it was Golden Death.

"I've wondered," Chase continued, "if death really is gold. Is it really satisfying? Then I'm sure that, as a great mind you are, you are wondering how I knew it was you. Well, to put it short, I know you're working for a drug ring. I know that anyone investigating the case and gets close doesn't live. I knew it was a matter of time before you came to me. Sometimes, I think that you don't really enjoy killing people and pups. I don't think you get true pleasure from it, I don't think that you know what it's like to be part of the family that has the deceased relative. Do you?" Skye remained silent. She thought about what he said. Something stirred in the back of her mind, and she started to chase it down. She grimaced as thoughts of what her boss had done to her to get her to where she was now. He had her tortured, ranging from cutting long slits down her body to submerging her in water until she almost drowned.

"I don't think you really mean to hurt others," Chase said, "even if some are already hurt. My girlfriend was taken six years ago, on this very night as a matter of fact. I wouldn't be surprised if she was dead, a lot can happen. Two of my friends, in fact, are married now and have seven pups. Seven! The firedog, he married a pup that Ryder recruited after my girl was taken. It was about a year or two after she had disappeared, and she's awfully nice. Strong and decisive, but nice. She can put such an innocent smile on her face, you can hardly say no." A smile appeared on Chase's face as he watched the water.

"It makes me wish I could've had the same chance. Had a girl I love become my wife, my mate, start a family. Which I guess, sadly, wasn't meant to be. I haven't found another dog who had quite that nice of a smile. Those same beautiful magenta eyes. And so, I ask you to kill me now. I just want you to know, that as my last wish, is that I could at least see you before I die. It might sound strange, but I want to see how gold the Golden Death is." Skye fought with herself. Years of hard training and discipline were fighting with feelings, _emotions._ Even though they felt so foreign, they felt right. A sense of duty overcame emotion.

Skye brought the knife back and threw it, it catching in Chase's back, near the base of his tail. He gasped in pain, but didn't shout out. She rushed forward, and turned Chase around. His eyes were closed, but as he felt the movement, he opened his eyes. They grew wide in shock, seeing Skye there before him.

"Sk- Skye? You're...Golden Death?" Chase could tell his body was shutting down.

"I'm not Skye," she answered flatly, "Skye died a long time ago." Chase closed his eyes.

"May I ask, for one more thing?" Skye stared at him intently. "May I, kiss, you?" Skye felt her heart rip out of her chest. Images and feelings flashed through her mind, from meeting to Chase, to secretly falling in love with him, to drawing pictures of him and her late at night when she couldn't sleep.

Skye blinked rapidly. "Oh my...Chase!" She threw her paws around him, sobbing into his fur. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" she cried again and again. "I don- I don't know what happened, I- I-" chase put his paw up to her lips.

"Listen," he said weakly, "I love you. I know, it wasn't, you. I'm glad you're, you're back." Skye leaned in, and kissed him on his lips. It lasted not more than ten seconds, when Skye felt Chase sink into the ground and go limp. She cried across his body for what felt like hours. The sun was just starting to rise when Skye came to a decision. She pulled the knife out of Chase's body.

"I love you, Chase," she said. She twisted the knife to her chest, and pulled her paws towards herself. There was a brief flash of pain, replaced by numbness. She collapsed, feebly searching for Chase's paw. Grasping it in her paw, she said one last thing as she coughed up blood out of her mouth. "I, love, you." The world faded from her view, disappearing as a bright, white light replaced it.


	5. A New Generation

_**A/N: This idea came to me a while ago, I just never really pursued it. I figured I may as well share it, to see what you guys think. Note: This takes place in the future, so just bear with where this goes. As I always say, enjoy!**_

* * *

"I don't think we should be doing this, sir," the german shepherd pup said. The boy waved his pup's concern away with his hand.

"I want to see this place," the boy replied. The pup whimpered.

"It's property of the government now. It has been for nearly the past five decades. We shouldn't be here."

The boy looked his pup in the eye. "I am aware. I want to see if Grandpa's stories are true."

"Just because your granddad told you something before he died, doesn't mean that we should be breaking the law."

The blue-eyed, brown-haired fourteen year-old held something up between his thumb and first finger. "Grandpa gave me this USB before he died." The boy and his pup were walking across an old bridge, oblivious to the electric cars that were whirring past.

"We can't even use that USB! That technology disappeared a long time ago. There isn't a computer left to run it." The boy shook his head.

"If Grandpa was right before he died five years ago, then the computer we're looking for should be in the building he talked about." The building the boy mentioned was straight ahead, on a small section of the bay. It was at the east-most point of the island, creating the bay. It was what looked like an old lighthouse, apart from the fact there was no light.

The roof was a faded red, now almost pink. It was a simple concrete building, crusted in salt. Cracks had formed, but on just the exterior. The inside of the walls were titanium, ensuring that as time went on, it wouldn't collapse or rust. A yellow periscope stuck out of the roof, with a cracked lense and faded paint the only reminder of what it was.

The boy and his dog made their way up the twisting driveway, walking past multiple signs that read "No Trespassing". The pup glanced nervously at the signs, swallowing multiple times.

"Don't worry, Ranger," the boy told his dog. "If what Grandpa said is true, we're merely re-taking possession.

"Easy for you to say, Max, sir. You aren't terribly law-abiding, unlike me." The boy, Max, huffed at the pup's statement.

"Everyone says that. You aren't even three and you already act like you're ten. Just ease up a little." Ranger kept his jaw shut, but Max still saw it tighten every now and again.

The pair stopped just outside the front door. It was closed, although the glass was broken on one of the doors. Max squeezed through the open gap, mindful of the remaining glass edges. Ranger looked around at the glass edge, then leapt through after his owner.

Max turned in a circle, nearly tripping over his own feet as he spun. The place was covered in dust, a layer that made Ranger sneeze. "Bless you," Max said distractedly. He didn't hear Ranger's "thank you".

Old pup-treat containers skulked in one corner, partially full of moldy treats. Ranger eyed them hungrily. There was an old couch, missing one of its cushions, with the one remaining cushion torn. There were multiple bean bags, some of which had stains. They looked like food stains, Max even saw a moldy piece of pepperoni. There was one remaining picture on the wall, with a ten-year old boy and eight pups. Max stared long at the photo.

"We need to find a computer somewhere," Max said to his dog. Without giving time for Ranger to answer, Max turned down a hall. The german shepherd ran to catch up.

The pair looked at each door as they walked past, looking into one that had the door opened slightly. One of the doors had a star on a blue background. Another had an orange and yellow fire symbol, while yet a third had plane or helicopter blades on a pink background. A fourth had recycling arrows, and the one next to it had an anchor on an orange background. The final one had a wrench on a yellow background.

At the end of the hall, Max saw what he was looking for. It was a seventh door, but this one had a paw symbol on a red and blue background. Stopping a moment at the door, the boy looked to his dog.

"This is the moment of truth, Ranger," the boy said quietly.

"Then let's hurry before someone finds us out," the shepherd said anxiously.

Max slowly turned the knob, and gently pushed the door. It squeaked open, protesting as the rusty hinges ground against one another. Max tiptoed into the room, with Ranger right on his heels.

Glancing around the room, it was filled with what looked to be projects. One looked like a dog-sized backpack, with arms protruding from the sides. Ranger went to inspect it, sniffing at it. Shaking his head, he said, "If your granddad really owned this place, he had some very interesting things." Max merely nodded, speechless at what he was seeing. His grandfather had been close-mouthed about what he had done when he was Max's age, and so his grandson was finally see what he had done.

Seeing a desk, with a desktop computer on it, Max sat down in an old chair. It rattled and squeaked in protest, but Max paid it no heed. Looking at the back of the desktop, he found a USB port. Plugging the USB in, Max also hit the power button. There was nothing for a few seconds, then the screen changed. It changed to a red symbol with a silver paw print in the middle, and a blue background. It shouted "PAW Patrol is on a roll!", then went to the home screen.

"I'm surprised this thing works," Max muttered to himself. He grabbed the mouse, and went to hover over some of the files shown. Mission Reports, Mission Feed, Projects, mostly labels that Max didn't understand. He looked over a couple of the other files saved, and saw names beneath some of the folders. Chase, Skye, Rocky, Zuma, Marshall, Rubble, Everest, and Tracker. None of the names made sense to the boy. He searched a moment more, and found a file labeled "USB Data". He double clicked on it, and a black screen appeared.

A bar appeared on the screen, saying "Downloading...25%". Max waited for a few minutes, while Ranger stood on his hind paws to see the screen. "Download...Complete!" it read. The screen went dark again, until a wall could be seen. There was some shuffling, and a young man in his twenties rolled into view in a desk chair.

He had dark brown hair, which was combed straight up. He had brown eyes, and a perfect smile on his face. He had a square jaw, and prominent cheekbones. He had a pale vest, with red across his shoulders.

"Hello," the man said to the camera, "if you're watching this, then I have chosen you to follow the steps I laid. I chose you for your character, and for how you act to those around you. Oh, I nearly forgot. My name is Zachary Ryder Jr., although I am more well known as just 'Ryder'." Max stared intently at the screen. At his grandpa. At least, a younger version of his grandfather.

"Anyway," Ryder said on the screen, "young one, I have chosen you, because I see things in you. You might be watching this years after I have passed away, long after my team has gone.

"I am sure you are wondering what I mean by 'my team'. And so I'll tell you. At one point in time, I was in command of a team of dogs, a team that had pledged its life on helping those in need. No matter the issue, we were always willing to help. If I gave this to you, then it means I think this team needs to be brought back. I am hoping that this message would never have to be watched, but it appears this town needs it.

"The team I started and commanded was known as the PAW Patrol. This team ran with backing from the mayor of Adventure Bay, but eventually collapsed. We weren't needed anymore, so I broke up the team. Our team consisted of eight pups. A police pup, a firedog, an aviator, a water rescue pup, a construction pup, a recycling pup, a winter rescue pup, and a jungle survivalist pup. So if you are watching this, I know what I am asking of you may sound like a lot.

"I am asking that you rejuvenate the PAW Patrol. I have made sure that the offspring of my police and aviator pups, and possibly their pups' pups, have stayed in my family. If you don't have one of them, I entitle you to ownership of the one of your choice. I am hoping to still be alive when I give you the pup, so that you can strengthen your bond with him or her. I have some families of pups for you to go to, so as to hopefully make your duty easier.

"I just want you to know that I chose you because I knew you could do it. Otherwise you wouldn't be watching this. I want you to know that I believe in you to be a worthy successor, and possibly even surpass me in being a team leader. I believe in you, young one. Be strong. You are entitled to any money I may have left, as well as any objects at the old Lookout you may want. Do well, young one. I know you will." The screen went dark.

Max looked at Ranger, his hands shaking. Ranger looked at his owner's eyes. "We have some-" Ranger started, but was interrupted. The screen went to a different room, and an older Ryder appeared on the screen.

"Max, I am adding this to the initial message. I know I won't be around much longer, and I gave this to you because I believed in you. When I picked you, I spoke with your pup's parents. I asked them to give you their first pup, to help you restart the PAW Patrol. There was a reason why I asked you to wait until your pup was three years old, and this is why. Watching you grow up into the fine young man you are now is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I chose you because I see potential that you don't even know you have. I have seen you in school, taking leadership eagerly and caring for others. You're nearly exactly like me, getting out of high school by the time you're ten. I trust that you will know what to do.

"I wish I could walk you through what you need to do, but I sadly won't be there in person to help you. I've gotten old, and I only have months to live now. I want you to know that no matter what, whether you succeed or fail, I will always be proud of you. This may be a lot to take in, you probably won't even know half the things I've said so far. I can't talk much longer, the nurse insists I take my nap in a few minutes." A coarse laugh escaped the old man. "It's funny, life. You start by taking naps and having people feed you, and you end by taking naps and having people feed you. Not the most dignified way to die, now is it? Anyway, for you, I have prepared what I call a 'pup-pad'. I have hopefully updated it, but it might be a few years till you use it. On it, I have the name of a family for you to look into. Restarting the PAW Patrol is not going to be easy, but I know you can do it. The name I have is of whom your second member should be. I know a little about him, I have kept in touch with his parents. It is up to you if he should be your second member, apart from the pup you have now. He is your first. So Ranger, I get the feeling you will be a police dog. Your parents assured me that once you were born, they would raise you right. So please keep an eye on my grandson, he's going to need it. So good luck to you both. There shall be more instructions on the pup-pad. I hope you can succeed where I have failed, getting the PAW Patrol started again. I love you, Max." The screen went dark.

Max wiped a tear from his eye, having shed it for his grandfather. Ranger nudged his hand, trying to offer comfort. The boy smiled sadly at his dog. "Ranger, it looks like we have something to do in our lives."

The german shepherd wagged his tail quickly. "Sir, I would love to work alongside you as a partner." Ranger and Max both jumped suddenly as a mechanical whine was heard. A desk drawer opened. Max stared at it for a few moments, then cautiously looked into it.

It was a tablet, about the size of a small watermelon's diameter. It had rubber bumpers around the edge, and had a silver frame and back. It had a light blue home button, the same color as the bumpers. Max pushed the button, watching curiously as it powered on almost immediately. It had the same red and silver paw logo, this time saying "PAW Patrol II" underneath it. A white screen with black lettering then appeared. Max read it out loud.

"No job is too big, no pup is too small," Max read. The screen changed. "Your first recruit isn't a brute. Through ash and smoke, you can rely on this bloke. Just look to the sky, where there is smoke on-the-fly. Look to the golden gate, and look for the last name of Brate." Ranger cocked his head, and looked at the screen himself.

"A riddle? Why a riddle? He said he would provide instruction." Max shook his head.

"It is instruction. I would've expected something a bit harder than this, considering he knew how smart I was." Ranger merely stuck out his tongue. The boy rolled his eyes, then continued. "This is for a fire pup. When it says 'look to the golden-gate', it's talking about the Golden-Gate Bridge. We need to look for a pup who has the last name 'Blate' and see if he has what we're looking for." Max got up, and looked around. He looked closely at the pup-sized backpack, and made the connection. "Ranger, do you know what that is?" the boy said, pointing at the pack.

"No, sir. It looks like a backpack, though I doubt it is," the shepherd replied.

"Because it isn't. Grandpa commanded a team of dogs. So why would he have something such as this?"

"To help the dogs walk old ladies across the street?" Ranger asked. Max shook his head.

"Not quite. He would have built something like this to help his dogs help others. Depending on their duties, he probably would've made them different. This particular one," Max gestured to the pack on the table, "has a net, a taser, a megaphone, and a spotlight. I think this belongs to a police pup." Ranger looked at the pack with renewed interest.

"So how do I work it?" he asked quickly. "Taser!" the pup shouted. Nothing. "Uh, how about this? Arf! Taser!" There was a moment of delay, then the taser attachment fired. The could both hear the crackling of electricity as it fired. Then it was quiet. "Well, I guess that's how it works. Ruff! Retract!" The taser's cords wound themselves back into the gun, and it folded into the pack. "That's cool! Can you put it on?" Ranger asked, looking at his owner.

"I guess so. Just be cautious, who knows how old it is." Max grabbed the pack, and placed it on his dog. He buckled it, it having pieces or titanium armor in between the straps.

"Well, it fits good," Ranger said, inspecting it. Max nodded.

"It sure does. Hold on a moment, I want to do something." Max walked back over to the computer, and removed the USB. He held a circular device next to it, and pressed a button. There was a few seconds of silence, then the round object beeped. Max then shut down the computer. He tapped the circular device. "Just wanted to download those files. There's no telling what there might be on that computer."

Ranger nodded. "Good thinking. Now let's get out of here before we get discovered. I'd hate to start this off on the wrong side of the law." The pup shivered.

Max hesitated. "If he says so, technically we own this place now. And I don't know about you, but I want to look around this place and see what there is." Ranger whimpered.

"I don't know, sir. Even if it is technically ours, no one else knows that. And I know you know what your uncle will do if we do end up getting caught." The pup shivered again.

Max waved his pup's concern away again. "Look, I have no intention of going back to his place now. I don't care if he's my only living relative. I don't want you to get hurt again."

Ranger held his ribs at the memory. The force behind the drunken man's foot hurt quite a lot. "Alright," the german shepherd relented, "we can stay here. As soon as we get found out though, it's all on you."

The boy smiled at how paranoid his dog was being. "No one's been in here in probably thirty, forty years. We're the first ones here in that time, and we have proof that Grandpa left this for us."

"But didn't he tell us that the town or whoever owned it?"

Max was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly. "He did _say_ that. However, he probably didn't _mean_ it. He was rich enough to keep this place, albeit not maintain it. Everyone thought he died without a will, and so far my uncle hasn't been able to get his grubby hands on it. Nor do I plan to let him. C'mon, let's go see where that elevator goes." Cutting off the discussion, Max walked back towards the main entrance, Ranger obediently following.

"But, sir," Ranger spoke, "what if the elevator won't work? Again, it probably hasn't been used in decades."

Max answered without stopping or looking at his pup. "Because, so far the other things we've tried have worked. If Grandpa made it, it could survive a war and still be fine."

"That's another thing. We've only really tried two objects, both of which are outdated. What makes you think the elevator will work?" Max stopped and turned quickly, looking at his pup's eyes.

"Because Grandpa made it. And if he made it, chances are it will be around for a long time." Max turned back to walking to the elevator.

"Yes, I get that your grandpa was smart, sir, but, it's been nearly half a century since this place was closed. I don't know if it will work." Max wisely chose to ignore him.

The boy strode confidently into the elevator, with Ranger stopping just outside. He looked carefully at the floor, then slowly tested it with a paw. It holding, he set another paw into it, then another, and one last one. Both inside the elevator, Max noticed something odd.

"There's no buttons," he said absentmindedly.

"See? See!? I knew it wouldn't work," Ranger immediately argued.

"Bark at it."

"What?"

"I said bark at it!"

Ranger looked curiously at his owner, then did as he was still. "Arf! Elevator up!" There was nothing. "See? I told you it wou- woah!" He cried out as the elevator lurched a foot upwards, then quickly and smoothly ascended. Ranger looked at his owner, who had a smug grin spread across his face. "Fine, it works," Ranger mumbled, "you don't have to be so darn smug about it though."

The elevator reached the top of the Lookout offering a grand view of the bay and the town. Max gave a low whistle at the sight. Even though the windows were smudged and cracked, it was a spectacular sight. "It's a pity that Adventure Bay isn't as nice as it once was," Max said unconsciously.

Ranger nodded his agreement. "Maybe your grandfather wasn't so crazy." Max looked at his dog.

"He was never crazy. And you know, I'm going to follow his steps." Ranger turned to his owner.

"I'm with you all the way."

Max smiled. "I knew you would be."


End file.
